


Coffee and Rain

by Anicdestiny



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anicdestiny/pseuds/Anicdestiny
Summary: A rainy morning and the lingering smell of coffee beans
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Coffee and Rain

Sylvain wakes at 6:32 a.m. to an empty bed and the smell of coffee wafting through the open door. The sheets where his significant other should have been were cold by now and the covers were pulled up nice and straight as she tended to leave them. He scowls as he blinks the sleep from his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a moment, letting his vision focus. 

It's not uncommon that Ingrid rises before him. In fact, it's extremely common, especially on the weekends. Because, no matter the season, she always has something to do. Goddess knows how many afternoons she's spent at her desk filing through documents. He's much the same though. He has endless amounts of paperwork everyday as well, he just spreads it out. Unlike his wife, who instead works through it all at once till she passes out. It's exhausting to even watch her as she holds her cellphone between her cheek and shoulder, a set of applications in her hand, and her pen in the other. She's like this for most of the year til' June rolls around. 

In the summer, her and Sylvain drive back up to her father's ranch where she grew up. There, she resumes her position as "Galatea Ranch Equestrian Camp Instructor," a role she suits much better than her stuffy office work. It's always a pleasant visit because Ingrid's family is so incredibly welcoming and hospitable. Her mother makes the most delicious meals and her father, skeptical as he is, seems to enjoy talking with him. Her brothers, Vernon and James, don't like him much. But Ingrid's younger sister, Harriete, is talkative and a delight to be around. Despite his reputation, her father had granted Sylvain permission to marry his daughter, on the condition that he treat Ingrid as the queen she deserved to be. This hadn't been an issue of any kind, of course, and he'd kept his promise. In return, he'd earned her father's respect and a place at the ranch whenever they came up.

During their visits, Ingrid works with many different children as they learn to ride. Some are more experienced, having attended this summer camp for several years; while others are shy with the animals and jump when they make noise. Sylvain helps out best he can, being Ingrid's first "student" and a fairly proficient rider. The kids adore her though, they always do. She's just likeable. She's the teacher that expects hard work but rewards it accordingly. It's a wonderful thing to those kids to be able to get away from the bustle of cities like Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach and come out to the suburbs for a few weeks. It's good for them, as much as many of them would rather be at home playing video games with their friends. 

When the camp sessions come to a close and all the students have gone home, he and Ingrid get to spend the last weekend of summer together, which is always a refreshing change of pace. They usually take to the coast for those two precious days and enjoy the final breeze of warmth before autumn. It's a time he treasures heavily, she does too. Because, after that, it's back to Gautier and back to the piles of paperwork. 

The piles of paperwork that are currently sitting idle on her birch desk. 

Sylvain stretches and holds it for a moment as he glances around the room, still dim in the early morning light. He takes another whiff of the scent of black coffee that lingers in the bedroom. He's learned over the past few years that coffee = Ingrid. No coffee, no Ingrid. So at least she's home. 

He meanders around the room, searching for any signs of departure she might have left. A sticky note on the bathroom mirror, a coat absent from the closet, anything. And yet, there's nothing. So yes, she is home. But where is she? 

Finally, he makes his way down the hall and into the living room, where she could be taking a call. Or on the off-chance she isn't up for work, she could be sprawled over on the couch trying to finish a book. Or maybe she could be perched on the window seat, watching as the rain fell. Any of these would've struck his fancy, but, unfortunately, she wasn't anywhere to be found. He sighs and continues his search for his wife. 

His feet carry him to the kitchen, where the scent of coffee beans grows stronger. The pot is still warm when he grabs onto the handle. Sylvain grins when he notices one of their many mugs on the counter with a post-it note stuck to the side reading simply; "!" 

For whatever reason, Ingrid seems fond of sticky notes, often making use of them when she hasn't the time for vocal exchange. She sometimes doodles a series of hearts or stars by her message. Most times, he'll leave one for her to find when she inevitably checks back on it later in the day. Occasionally these exchanges stretch over days 'til Ingrid gets tired of it and decides to call or text him. But there's always another note a few days later.

Sylvain stares into the darkness that is his cup of coffee while leaning on the countertop. He tilts his wrist back and forth to swirl it around and watches as bubbles form then dissipate a few seconds later. Taking a sip, he steps out of the kitchen and wanders, free hand in his pajama pant-pocket. He takes a glance at the wall next to the door where hangs Ingrid and his degrees. They hang there to fill space more than to be decorative, neither of them really care to display their academic achievments. Next to them, however, sits a little multiframe of wedding photos, engraved "S + I, 5th of the Garland Moon, 2031". Only a few of the photos were actually set up for photography, the others were random moments that were deemed worthy of capture. His favorite was always the one in the very middle. It pictured him and Ingrid, sitting on the fence outside the barn together. Their fingers were intertwined as they held their arms in the air, her bouquet of sunflowers and collarette dahlias in her hand. He remembers it as if it were yesterday. Remembers her smile and the way she kept kicking her legs to stay upright on the rickety old fence. He had held her hand as they'd laughed and had kissed her under the stars that incredible night. Gods help him if he ever hurts this woman. 

Sylvain stares out of the window at the yard and the softly falling rain. The grass is muddy and splotched with puddles that overflow onto the pavement. He watches as raindrops create tiny wave pools on the railing of the porch and idly taps his finger on the mug with a rythmic pattern. The water gathered on the rail trails down the lower half of the fencing and trickles off the wood. 

His honey-brown eyes land on the figure of a woman, blonde hair and a navy blue sweatshirt, laid on the top step of the porch. She's rested her chin on the back of her hands at is staring at the outer world as she lies there, dry with a cup of coffee sitting next to her. Her calves are bent back and sway lightly behind her. 

He smiles and moves to the door, throwing on a denim jacket over his t-shirt. Sylvain picks up his mug again and opens the door. As vigilant as she is, it takes her a moment to notice him. When she does, she looks over her shoulder with a light smile on her pale tone. He sits on his ankles next to her, careful not to tip her drink, and rests a hand on her shoulder. She leans into it and nuzzles softly, allowing him to notice the dampness of her short golden hair. As he leans in to kiss her head, he picks up the scent of her shampoo. Cucumber melon, a scent she's used for years. 'Never gets old. 

" 'Morning, sleepyhead." She says, her voice not much more than a coo. 

Sylvain straightens up and starts massaging her back with his left hand. "Good morning, beautiful." 

Ingrid huffs a small chuckle, turning her gaze back to the weather. She shifts lightly, propping her weight onto her elbows. Sylvain caresses her shoulder softly. 

"What has you up at the crack of dawn, hm?" He wonders aloud.

She furrows her brows a moment. "Well, I originally came out here to watch the sunrise. But the clouds kind of ruined that. So now I'm watching the rain, I guess." Her eyes soften though, "That's okay too."

Sylvain smiles again and looks up at the sky. It's almost entirely blue by now, but it's also still raining. The chill in the air will linger for the rest of the day, as it does in Faerghus. "Sounds nice." 

Ingrid nods slowly, "It was." She leans her head back on his hand. "What about you? How come you're up?"

He shrugs lightly at her question. Truthfully, he doesn't know, his body just seemed to sense her absence. He settles on that explanation. "I guess I could tell you weren't there anymore. But it's alright, I'm glad I can spend my morning with you. That doesn't happen much anymore."

"Yeah..." She exhales slow and long before continuing. "I hate that." 

"I know. I do too." He finds himself saying. "I miss those lazy mornings on our honeymoon." 

Ingrid smiles, recalling their trip to Derdriu two days after their wedding. "Mhmm."

"Maybe we could visit your parents for Christmas this year." Sylvain says thoughtfully, looking down at her. 

"That's actually a really good idea..." She ponders the suggestion "I'll have to call them and see if we can get something planned." 

He carefully moves their cups to make room for himself next to her. He lies down and kisses her cheek, earning himself a small giggle. "Let's do it."

"Okay." Ingrid murmurs contentedly.

Sylvain can't help but grin as a soft heat fills his chest, eliminating any chill from the rain. Some days are long and hard, but he has his wife and a wonderful future to look forward to. As he wraps his arm around her and feels her warmth, he knows these moments with coffee and rain are all he needs.


End file.
